Dolesh Family

Monday, October 14, 2013

i think i used to enjoy flying. as a young child, it used to be exciting. as an adult, it used to be relaxing. now flying with kids and in the age of airport security is something akin to torture. it feels like tsa security personnel and airline ticket agents and the airport parking experience bring out the very worst in me. i have no tolerance for stupidity, no patience for lines, no allowance for senseless rules, and no permissiveness for rudeness (do i really need to have my bag measured again by a non-personality?). and this is before we even get to our aircraft. en route to our gate in never-never land, there are thousands of tsa agents fixated on carefully and accurately ensuring my son's shoes do not contain a firearm and my daughter's smoothie is not a green spinach explosive device. it takes hours to get through security after putting each item through: shoe number one, shoe number two, coat, laptop, liquids, gels, suitcase number one, suitcase number two, blankie number one, blankie number two, kippa (merritt with many tears while i am desperately explaining why kippa is going into a mysterious tunnel and taking my shoes off at the same time and telling stimson why we have to walk through the security gate one at a time), and on and on. is this really necessary? do we actually live in a modern, civilized, and intelligent county? my bags had to be checked for size restrictions no less that five times in the long and perilous journey to gate D1001. we finally find our gate to discover not only has there been a gate change to D34, but also a sliiiiiiiiiiiiight time delay setting us back a few hours. no big deal, except for the fact that i need to keep track of two young kids, two backpacks, two suitcases, and kippa, and make it all fun and entertaining at the same time. we wander around lugging everything with us and eventually (finally!) head back to D34. the uber-rich elite board first so every other common-folk passenger can walk past their smugness one by one. next it is those requiring special assistance. since we qualify for special assistance, my big question... should we board first? or last? get organized right away or put off the fact that we will be cramped into a couple of small seats for hours with no end in sight? i go with sooner rather than later just so we can be sure to get a piece of the overhead bins. i realize items may tend to shift in landing and takeoff, but being the adventurous type that i am, i decide it is worth the risk. we get buckled and settled in,and then the real question surfaces: how long can i stretch out lunch on this unending flight? and who is going to be the lucky contestant that gets to sit next to us? we ended up getting a very large person (perfect), an impatient passenger, and a nauseous person. great. all of those are outstanding when you get to sit next to two very busy kids. stimson talked loud the whole flight because he had head phones on. (funny to me, but apparently not as funny to impatient passenger)(i should also add stimson talks a LOT). merritt pretended she was a puppy and wiggled and kicked and jumped THE ENTIRE FLIGHT. not exaggerating. somehow we made it to minneapolis and i promise we did not unbuckle our seat belts until the plane was completely stopped at the gate and the captain had turned off the fasten seat belts sign. (that is not to say we actually had them buckled in the first place though...) flying feels like an exercise in following and contorting to stupid rules and i have no tolerance or time for silly, insulting, pointless rules.

minnesota was fun and way too fast...

and all too soon we were on our way back to bozeman. on the way back, late at night and for a brief time, both my children were sleeping on my lap. it went from a very difficult experience to a dream come true. peaceful. thinking again about how to fit in a third child and what that will look like and when and how and why. no answers. suddenly the lights come on and the captain turns on the fasten seat belt sign again. whew. so glad someone is looking out for me. but not the steward ("person taking care of us for the evening") he says i have to have my son sit up. ! i had assumed everyone knew the ultimate moral code in the universe is NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY! apparently he felt that sitting up in his seat 30 minutes prior to landing was more important than my baby being able to sleep. i growled and told him i would take care of it. many hours later we finally landed. found a ride home and on the way got pulled over by a cop. the cop came up to our car, saw our sleeping children and proceeded to whisper, yes he whispered! that our tail light was out and said have a good night. a complete reversal of every person i encountered in our airline experience. i love montana.